


Common Ground

by Galo



Category: The Flash (TV 2014)
Genre: Gen, M/M, Online Friendship, a smol love letter to online friends, barry and cisco are sort of friends but things aren't quite the same yet, barry is bad at flirting, both are bad at emotions, julian and caitlin are friends of course, julian is bad at comforting people, various pop culture references
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-14
Updated: 2017-01-14
Packaged: 2018-09-16 16:59:09
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,639
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9281312
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Galo/pseuds/Galo
Summary: In a world where there are forums dedicated to 18th century murder-mysteries, Barry and Julian strike up an online friendship with one another. Naturally, the two aren't aware of one another's identities: They jokingly call one another "Flash" and "Mr. Jones" as shorthand for their respective usernames. The thing is, as the two open up more and more about their personal lives, it's only a matter of time before they recognize one another.





	

**Author's Note:**

  * For [TheRedThread](https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheRedThread/gifts).
  * Translation into Русский available: [Общий язык](https://archiveofourown.org/works/11702073) by [DarkMoska](https://archiveofourown.org/users/DarkMoska/pseuds/DarkMoska)



> **The original prompt:** What I’d really want to read is an allenbert fic where Julian and Barry still have that abrasive work relationship (maybe pre-reveal) and they just happen to start to communicate anonymously, kinda like in “you’ve got mail”, maybe via post its on a wall at Jitters or via a new software at ccpd. Their msgs would rank from silly or nerdy to heavy existential stuff. They’d refrain from checking for an answer twice a day and be excited to read what the other has to say about pretty much anything. They’d wear a big dumb smile thinking about the other’s msg and people would comment on how their mood had improved lately. They’d all but fall in love and one day BAM big reveal they’re no other than their irritating coworker and they start connecting the dots.  
>  \--  
> I don't know how true I was able to stay to the prompt but I did my best. (I've never seen You've Got M@il, but that's what IMDB synopses are for.) Thank you again for the request!

**trendianajones** **_has signed on._ **

Barry spies the notification in the corner of his computer screen and nearly spills his coffee on himself. With a wary scan across the length of the lab, he scoots forward in his chair and types as quietly as he can manage. (Which ultimately doesn’t matter because Julian will hear a pin if it strikes the ground.)

 **gottagofast** **_is typing . . ._ **

> hello mr. jones  
> think i’m _fast_ enough to keep up with you?

He is way prouder of himself than he has any right to be.

 **trendianajones** **_is typing . . ._ **

> was that an idiom in a pun or a pun in an idiom?  
> either way, i applaud you  
> even though you might just be a furry

Oh, _hell no._ Barry purses his lips together in a desperate attempt to swallow the bark of laughter bubbling at the back of his throat. He is so utterly charmed by Jones’ way with words, never mind Cisco’s constant reminders that he may or may not be yet another unfortunate victim of catfishing.

His best friend really has no reason to worry; Barry’s taken precaution to avoid letting any identifying information slip.

 **gottagofast** **_is typing . . ._ **

> i didn’t realize this was a sonic meme when i made the account  
> good to see you around

“Barry.” Julian’s voice cuts through his fun. “Are you finished with that report I asked for yet?”

No, of course he isn’t. Barry powers through the urge to roll his eyes like a champ and answers with as much patience as he can muster, “Still working on it, Julian. I’d finish it faster if you quit interrupting me all the time.”

As annoyed as he is, it’s a good reminder to spend less time messaging mysterious Englishmen (a factoid he learned last week) and more time keeping Captain Singh off his back.

He’s just surprised that anyone else had the time to sign up for a 90s-era forum dedicated to 18th-century murder mysteries. It’s even more surprising that his online friend cares to talk about more than just that ridiculously narrow niche.

 **trendianajones** **_is typing . . ._ **

> i’m afraid duty calls  
> perhaps i’ll speak with you later this evening

 **trendianajones** **_has signed off._ **

Without a distraction to pull him off course, Barry heaves out a sigh and flips through the mountain of case files on his desk. He’s known the pattern for quite some time now but the abrupt reminders that Jones had a busy work week left Barry antsy for the weekend.

The worst part is, there’s no reason for him to speed home on Friday nights because no one can beat their daily commute faster than the Flash.

Never mind the fact that it’s still only Tuesday.

“Hey, Julian?”

Julian makes no indication that he hears Barry trying to get his attention.

Not a problem. Barry’s used to this by now. “Are you gonna be attending this thing? The CCPD charity function?”

Julian looks up at the snappy flutter of the flyer flailing wildly in Barry’s hands and judges him for a solid two seconds. Two seconds that neither of them will ever get back.

“No. I won’t have a date for it.”

Perturbed by Julian’s choice of words, Barry pries, “What do you mean? I thought you had a girlfriend.” Never mind the fact that Barry doesn’t have a date either, nor does he _need_ a date to support Central City’s finest.

Julian sets his pen down. The way he steeples his fingers, it’s as if he’s trying to gather every ounce of condescension he can muster. “Things didn’t work out between us. Now, could we shift the focus from my personal life to work?” He tilts his head until there’s a crack in his neck and he exhales as he collects his pen. “You’re on the clock and my migraine isn’t improving whatsoever.”

“Right. Sure. I’ll just shut up now.” This time, Barry lacks the patience to stop his eyes from rolling in circles.

Suffice to say, the state of their relationship lacks the altitude to take so much as a nosedive; if Julian was the plane and Barry was the wheels of said plane, the two of them would be incapable of getting up into the air. Poor, poor Barry just keeps grinding against the ground, getting more and more worn out by the hour.

Maybe things would change if Julian knew he was the Flash.

On the one hand, he might get some respect. On the other, Julian would have even more ammo against him. Never would he be allowed to sleep in ever again, lest he be late to the office with his superspeed.

Cisco had a brilliant idea of building an alarm clock that has ‘metal-as-fuck’ spikes on the top so you can’t just slap it off your bedside table but Caitlin had immediately used her power of veto.

Between his friends and his co-worker, Barry just can’t catch a break.

The rest of the workday passes with little incident, other than a curt “see you tomorrow morning” from Julian.

*

“Excuse me, doctor, but is this seat taken?” Julian slides into his seat and grins as Caitlin reaches out for him with a dazzling smile; he takes her hands in his and hums as excitement radiates off of her in waves.

“Dr. Albert! I was wondering when you’d show. I’ve already put in your order, it should be coming out,” -- she turns and nods at the barista, then looks back to Julian -- “Right on the dot!” She pulls her hands back and nestles them in her lap as she scoots forward, not unlike a young girl who’s waiting to be cast as the princess in the school play.

Not many have the privilege of bearing witness to this side of Dr. Caitlin Snow. In fact, most know her as an uptight academic who’d much rather bury her nose in a book than be out among her peers.

Julian knows better.

He offers a quick “cheers” to the barista and reaches for his coffee. He inhales, savors the warm aroma, before taking a sip. Rich caramel notes mingle with an earthy base that leans towards bitter rather than acidic. He lets out a content sigh and smiles pleasantly.

“You seem happy,” Caitlin offers, her voice inquisitive yet gentle.

“That’s because I’ve made a friend.” He can feel the corners of his mouth curving. Julian chuffles as Caitlin gives him a knowing smile that toes the line between supportive and downright nosy.

“A new friend.” There’s that overacted voice of hers, mock-casual. She’s never been able to hide the twinkle in her eyes. It’s what gives her errant curiosity away. “What’s their name?”

“I call him Flash.”

To his horror, Caitlin spews coffee all over her saucer and starts coughing. Julian leaps for the napkins and does what he can to sop up the mess.

She grabs one with a teary look of gratitude and dabs at her mouth. Thoroughly embarrassed, Caitlin glances about at her surroundings and asks in a meek voice, “You mean like _The Flash?_ ”

Now it’s Julian’s turn to be embarrassed. He clears his throat as he settles back into his seat and shakes his head. “No, uhh, I just call him ‘Flash’ because his username is, well, let me just show you.”

As he passes his phone over, Julian catches a glimpse of some messages waiting for him:

 **gottagofast** **_is typing . . ._ **

> it’s not a murder-mystery but have you ever heard of elizabeth canning?  
> supposedly she was kidnapped for an entire month, showed up at home in terrible condition, and took her kidnappers to trial. her kidnappers were found guilty but this judge dude wasn’t happy with that verdict so he redid the trial and pardoned the two ladies “responsible” for the crime of theft because women were still considered property back then which is totally not cool  
> sorry, i used wikipedia this week

Caitlin tries for a teasing whistle but her lips turn it into a reedy little rasp of a thing. She straightens herself out in her seat and holds out Julian’s phone for him. “You could have told me you meant an online friend. He’s ‘Flash’ because of his username, right? I think that’s cute.”

“Yeah, well, I can’t spend all of my free time lounging around streaming Netflix.”

*

Cisco points his fork at Barry in an accusatory manner. “You still haven’t explained to me why you aren’t all caught up with Westworld.”

“I, I haven’t been had time to watch anything!” Barry exclaims over a plate of fries and an untouched burger. His stomach growls with seething hatred for him.

Fun fact: It’s nigh impossible to eat anything when you’re being threatened by plastic utensils.

“I don’t even have HBO!” With a huff, Barry crosses his arms and lets his mouth sag into his infamous bitch face as if he were dealing with Julian and not, you know, a guy he calls his best friend. “What do you want me to do about that?”

“ _Use my account, Barry,_ it’s what it’s there for. Hey,” Cisco smacks him on the hand. “What happened to our ‘no phones at the table’ rule, _hm?_ You better not be on Reddit or something.”

“I’m not, I’m not! I was just…”

Cisco raises a brow. “Expecting a call?”

“Expecting a text. Message. A text message.”

Big mistake. Cisco’s eyes turn into fat saucers. “Oh my god, you are _not_ getting a booty call through Tinder while hanging out with me. Put that thing down or so help me, God, smite me where I stand.” He throws his hands up and gesticulates in a dramatic ‘et tu, Brute?’ fashion.

“What?! No!” Barry holds his hands up and tries to smooth out the situation by patting the air. “It’s the guy who’s catfishing me--the guy who you _think_ is catfishing me. Which I’m pretty sure he isn’t.”

“How is that not checking Tinder?”

“Because we didn’t meet on Tinder, I don’t even have Tinder installed on my phone. We met on a forum, okay? For people who like murder-mysteries.”

 **trendianajones** **_is typing . . ._ **

> December of 1799, Elma Sands vanished from the streets of Manhattan.  
> Levi Weeks, Sands’ lover, was arrested twelve days later when they discovered the victim’s corpse floating in an abandoned well.  
> But here’s the twist: Weeks was defended by none other than Alexander Hamilton and Aaron Burr.  
> I assume you’re on your lunch right now so I’ll send you the details later.

“Dude, the face you are making right now.”

Barry looks up from his phone. Cisco has his face buried in his hands like a grieving widow. Jesus F. Christ.

“Face? What face? I’m not making any faces.” Barry takes advantage of the fact that there is no longer a spork in his face but his ungrateful stomach continues to growl.

“I feel like I’m watching Oscar bait right now and this is the part where you realize you’re head-over-heels.”

Barry scoffs. Romantic feelings for a guy he’s never even met? That’s preposterous. “You’re nuts. I don’t even like dudes. Not that there’s anything _wrong_ \--”

Cisco cuts him off with a snappy finger pistol that holds the same scrutiny as a mother’s piercing gaze. “Don’t like dudes or never been around a dude long enough to reconsider?”

“Well, I’m not attracted to you!” Barry almost pouts. Almost. “But from an objective standpoint, you’re a handsome guy, sure. Just not my type.”

“So I’m not even on like a ‘if I had to pick a dude’ level.”

“Am I on yours?”

Cisco slams a hand on the table as he busts up laughing. Barry doesn’t have the heart to tell him that trying to stifle it with his fist is useless. “Yeah, no. That’d be weird. Let’s see here… Julian! Would you ever consider the horizontal tango with him? ‘Fancy a shag?’ _Pfft_ , I _can’t_.”

Barry snorts, mimics the phrase with a butchered accent, then jumps at his own text tone.

“Sorry, man, it’s Iris. Can I just--?” Barry grins as Cisco waves him off with an overexaggerated sigh. “Hey, Iris, just got the text.--Yeah, it’s fine with me.--I think it’s great that Wally’s spending more time with you and Joe. Oh, and me. Us.--Uh huh. See you at eight.”

“Family dinner?”

Barry nods solemnly.

Cisco sighs. “It’s cool, we’re cool. Just. Have a good time, yeah? I should be heading back to the lab anyway.”

“No, yeah, go ahead. I’ll cover the bill.”

If it’s any consolation, Barry thinks as he watches Cisco’s retreating figure, he doubts he’s going to enjoy dinner with the Wests as much as their lunch together.

*

 **gottagofast** **_has signed on._ **

Julian watches as the milk swirls into his cup of tea, staining the muddy brown until it’s a rich caramel. He promises himself to finish this one simple task before greeting Flash. (He’s well aware that the man who busies himself protecting Central City hasn’t the time to spend on online chat programs but a guy can pretend.)

 **gottagofast** **_is typing . . ._ **

> hey, u there?  
> i was hoping i could talk to someone

Something stirs within Julian’s chest as though it were being awaken from a long slumber. Sympathy for another human being should not feel so foreign and unfamiliar but he’s been through a lot these past four years.

Flash doesn’t need to know that, though.

 **trendianajones** **_is typing . . ._ **

> what’s wrong?

 **gottagofast** **_is typing . . ._ **

> pretty sure my brother hates me  
> my adoptive brother  
> you know, since i was adopted

It’s the first he’s ever heard of this but this trivial fact pales in comparison to his friend’s plight. Julian straightens himself up in his chair and scoots closer to his desk.

Steam wafts idly from his abandoned teacup.

 **trendianajones** **_is typing . . ._ **

> i’m sorry to hear that

 **gottagofast** **_is typing . . ._ **

> it’s just  
> i don’t know what i did  
> i’d be more than happy to be friends with him and check out what he’s into  
> but he won’t even give me a chance  
> he says his dad loves me more than he’ll ever love him and it’s like  
> what do you even say to that?  
> this should be the other way around  
> i should be the one with the issues since we’re not even related by blood

Julian starts to type, deletes what he has, and sits there with what his friend has just told him. His chest tightens. A clap on the back isn’t a feasible option and it’d be too soon, he thinks, to offer up his cell number. That, and not everyone is entirely comfortable with opening up over the phone.

 **gottagofast** **_is typing . . ._ **

> sorry, i didn’t mean to just unload on you like that

Julian curses under his breath. The longer he hesitates, the longer Flash will sit with his problem and mope.

 **trendianajones** **_is typing . . ._ **

> let me preface this by saying i’m not trying to make this about me: I hope it’s helpful, though, if I try to relate with my own experiences?

 **gottagofast** **_is typing . . ._ **

> no, yeah, please.  
> i’d love to hear more about you  
> i mean, if you’re willing to share

Julian mulls over those words. Lately, they’ve only ever discussed safe topics: Books, movies, murder-mysteries before their time, and the merits of traditional English cuisine versus the ingenuity of American fusion.

Family problems are well beyond the realm of Chinese take-out and the thought of stepping past casual acquaintances is making him anxious.

 **trendianajones** **_is typing . . ._ **

> We had a death in the family.

 **gottagofast** **_is typing . . ._ **

> I’m so sorry.

Three little words are all it takes, apparently, to keep Julian from regretting the plunge.

 **trendianajones** **_is typing . . ._ **

> It’s okay. Don’t worry about it.  
> The reason why I bring it up is because things changed and even though we were family, the strain was too much and I was essentially estranged.  
> It’s why I’m here, in America. I had to start over.

It’s not the entire truth of why he fled to the States but it’s enough for the conversation’s sake. To say any more would be to invite Flash into the depths of his fears and doubts. And if Julian’s going to be honest with himself, he’s not ready for that.

 **trendianajones** **_is typing . . ._ **

> And maybe that’s what it’s like for your brother right now.  
> He wants to start over but you’re already there, established.

Julian groans as he rests his forehead against the palm of a heavy hand. He’s so bad at this, it’s embarrassing.

 **trendianajones** **_is typing . . ._ **

> I’m starting to realize that there isn’t actually much of an analogy to be had here.

By this point, Julian needs to get up from the computer. Starting down this road means scratching at the old scabs that have only just healed; he feels an itch all over his body and a need to move.

But just as he’s about to run away from a faceless screen that can judge him all the same, Flash reaches for him.

 **gottagofast** **_is typing . . ._ **

> no, yeah, i think i get it  
> sort of  
> for the most part  
> i’m sorry to hear about your family  
> but yeah, i like talking to you  
> i’m always looking forward to it

If only, he thinks. If only he had someone this kind and selfless in his life. What he wouldn’t give to take Flash out for coffee. Julian shakes his head, wondering what Flash’s laugh must sound like.

 **trendianajones** **_is typing . . ._ **

> I like talking to you, too.  
> and you’re the first person i’ve told since i moved here

 **gottagofast** **_is typing . . ._ **

> wow you’re gonna make me blush

“You and me both,” he exhales. The flutter in his chest beats back the worries and doubts that try to hiss in his ear how pathetic this mockery of a friendship is.

 **gottagofast** **_is typing . . ._ **

> hey, i gotta run  
> my sis is trying to do some dmg ctrl  
> i should be there for her

And, of course, his timing couldn’t be worse. Julian bites back a sigh of resignation and thinks up something nice yet neutral to say.

 **trendianajones** **_is typing . . ._ **

> Go. It’s important to be with family.

There will always be tomorrow to talk.

 **gottagofast** **_is typing . . ._ **

> thanks again, mr. jones  
> okay i’m gonna regret this but i’m posting it and signing off so i don’t see your response haha i’m so clever. anyway, talking to you really did make me feel better and i appreciate the fact that you opened up to me. that means a lot and i’ll cherish that cause we’re friends and that’s what friends do.  
> i’m just really glad i met you.  
> ok, ttyl!

 **gottagofast** **_has signed off._ **

Once, twice, Julian rereads the messages he’s received. His face heats up. “You’re not a child anymore. You can’t do this, not when you haven’t even seen so much as a picture of him.” But he smiles.

There’s comfort to be found in the idea that he’s liked for his personality above all else.

*

That night, Barry can’t sleep.

Things are better now (if not perfect) between the members of the West household which is fine. It’s great.

What isn’t great is how he wants so very much to hop on his laptop and see if Jones is still online. Every time Barry tries to put himself in his friend’s shoes, he can barely stomach the thought of either Iris or Joe six feet under. It’d give Wally all the more reason not to trust him and that’s probably how it went down for Jones. From what he can infer, Jones’ family had needed a scapegoat.

He should just abandon his stupid ‘don’t overwhelm the guy by talking to him 24/7’ rule because Jones was clearly in need of an ear. But bringing his family up again seems unnecessarily cruel, too.

While Barry waffles over his options, the door creaks open and a stream of light pours into the room. He sits up to turn the light on and greets Iris with a weak “hey”.

She says “hey” back to him with the same frail voice as she has a seat at the foot of the bed. “You seem to be doing okay now.”

Barry gives a helpless little shrug. “I’ve got good people supporting me.”

Iris smiles at that. Her fingers crimp the corner of the sheets and there’s a pause before she asks, “How’s work?”

“Same old, same old. I’m still trying to figure out how to deal with Julian. That stick up his butt has gotta be at least a mile long.”

She has the decency not to laugh but Barry can see Iris hiding a smile behind her hand. “Seriously, you should do what I told you to: Buy him sweets until he feels obligated to be nicer to you.”

“I can’t believe you want me to bribe my co-worker from hell with candy.”

“Don’t knock it ‘til you try it. That’s how I got Linda Park to love me.”

Barry snorts. “Didn’t seem to work when I bought her chocolates.”

They lapse into a comfortable familiar silence. How many times has Iris come to check up on him throughout the years? She’s got a sixth sense for when something’s bothering him and the girl just won’t quit.

By the same token, Barry knows when Iris is after something. The elephant in the room isn’t getting any smaller.

He runs a hand through his hair and sighs. “I’m okay, Iris. This thing with Wally…”

“It’s not your fault,” she says, harder than she means to. Conflict worries at her lip.

Barry laughs softly. “I know it’s not. I’m just saying that it’s not hitting me like it would’ve one or two years ago. I’m tougher now, I’m the Flash.”

“You dummy.” Iris stares at him with affection and grins as Barry scoots closer. He swings an arm around her shoulder and she pats his hand. “Flash or not, you’ve always been tough. Resilient. You don’t let anything keep you down, Barr.”

He squeezes her into a one-armed hug. “That’s because I know you’re waiting for me to get back up.”

Iris lets herself be squeezed, even though Barry barely knows his own strength. It’s but one of her many sibling duties.

“Speaking of getting up, we both have early days tomorrow.” She pulls away and gives him an impish grin. “Me with the paper and you with your ever-so charming partner in crime-fighting.”

“Ugh.” Barry slides back under the covers as Iris rises to her feet. “Don’t ever use the word ‘charming’ to describe him. He’s just _mean_. Like a cranky old man.”

“I still don’t get why he doesn’t like you. You’re _Barry Allen_.” She pauses. “Did you spill coffee on him? Because it would explain a few things.”

Barry rolls his eyes. “Good _night_ , Iris.”

Iris gets the light for him and pauses at the door. In a much sweeter voice than the one Barry used, she returns the sentiment, “Sweet dreams, Barry.”

As the door squeaks close and darkness fills the room, Barry worries over Wally for all of two minutes before realizing that he’s still got Jones on his mind. He sits up and crawls over to his desk, grimacing at the sharp white light of his laptop.

Cisco keeps telling him that they’ve got apps for that, ones that change the brightness setting of your screen according to how much sunlight there is (or isn’t) but his tabs are a little preoccupied with Spotify, half a dozen TvTropes entries he’s been meaning to read, a recipe for chicken parmesan, his e-mail with an unread count that keeps rising, a plaid shirt he has to have, and an article here or there that’s work-related.

 **trendianajones** **_is typing . . ._ **

> go to bed, Flash

Busted. Barry grins like a kid who thinks smearing his PB&J sandwich on the wall is funny.

 **gottagofast** **_is typing . . ._ **

> make me

 **trendianajones** **_is typing . . ._ **

> well, in that case, let me tell you about trollhunters

A laugh pries his mouth open and tries to leap out, but Barry’s too quick for even his own dumb brain to get away with anything; he clamps his mouth shut before he can wake up Joe with an ugly snort.

Did Jones really just give up on lecturing him about getting some sleep? Must be going easy on him because of all the family drama.

 **gottagofast** **_is typing . . ._ **

> it took you all of two seconds to cave in

 **trendianajones** **_is typing . . ._ **

> piss off  
> it’s by guillermo del toro and if that’s not enough to convince you i don’t know what is

Barry beams. Not too long ago, Jones had streamed Pacific Rim for him. The two had commented on the entire film, half in capslock and half in disgruntled emoji.

Best part of it all?

The two minute delay between what was on Jones’ screen and what played on Barry’s screen led to some ridiculously confusing and ill-timed remarks that gave birth to several unfunny inside jokes.

 **gottagofast** **_is typing . . ._ **

> get in the chopper charlie  
> *gundam

 **trendianajones** **_is typing . . ._ **

> you’re such a prick  
> i corrected it right after, didn’t i?  
> i know the difference between anime and live-action  
> i have timestamps:  
**_( 9:16PM )_ ** ****  
**trendianajones said:**  
> *gundam  
**_( 9:16PM )_ ** ****  
**trendianajones said:**  
> shit **jaeger

Proof or not, Barry would never let him live it down.

 **gottagofast** **_is typing . . ._ **

> what is trollhunters  
> a new movie?

 **trendianajones** **_is typing . . ._ **

> no, tv series

 **gottagofast** **_is typing . . ._ **

> is it big explosions and kaiju like his other film?

 **trendianajones** **_is typing . . ._ **

> no it’s a kid’s cartoon

His heart. Barry can feel his heart about ready to explode right out his chest. How can anyone be so prim and proper yet adorable at the same time?

Jones is like one of those princely types who’s just a little out of touch with the world and Barry can’t handle it.

 **gottagofast** **_is typing . . ._ **

> like blue’s clues or samurai jack

 **trendianajones** **_is typing . . ._ **

> are you asking me, a grown arse man, if i watch blue’s clues

Barry lets out an insulted gasp as if he has an audience to bear witness to it. A total of five seconds pass before he realizes that it is one in the morning and he’s laughing to himself. (Though, he could argue that he’s _technically_ laughing _with_ someone.)

 **gottagofast** **_is typing . . ._ **

> i, another grown *ass man, would watch blue’s clues

 **trendianajones** **_is typing . . ._ **

> yes, well, in answer to your question, i’d liken it to danny phantom or gravity falls in terms of maturity  
> you *arse

 **gottagofast** **_is typing . . ._ **

> YO DANNY PHANTOM HE WAS JUST FOURTEEN  
> WHEN HE BUILT A VERY STRANGE MACHINE  
> omg i need this  
> *ass

As he opens a new tab for Netflix, Barry hears the messenger chime beep at him twice. He scans the top of his browser and curses. “Wait, which one of these…” Knowing him, he’ll have to click through every single one before he can find his conversation with Jones.

 **trendianajones** **_is typing . . ._ **

> you can start it tomorrow  
> now go the fuck to sleep, you tit

There’s that familiar feeling of disappointment that follows the enthusiasm and anticipation. Always, he’s yearning for something new to get excited over, especially if it comes highly recommended by Jones.

Right now, he’s just being shooed away.

 **gottagofast** **_is typing . . ._ **

> but i missed you :(

 **trendianajones** **_is typing . . ._ **

> go find me in your dreams

Barry feels his heart sputter and spasm. He leans back in his chair and rocks off the front legs with a little too much force. Being the Flash, though, he hops out of his seat and beats gravity to it, catching his chair before it falls over. His heart shudders again, only this time it’s from the adrenaline of being a total klutz.

 **gottagofast** **_is typing . . ._ **

> are you giving me permission to dream about you ;)

He stares at what he’s written, what he’s _sent_ , and his face burns with the fear of rejection. Among his friends, Barry cannot name a single one who would ever think to describe him as ‘smooth’.

The odds of Jones becoming the first to do so aren’t looking too good either.

 **trendianajones** **_is typing . . ._ **

> Would you be able to stop there?

Barry squints.

There’s a disconnect between what he’s said and what Jones is saying. It is way too late at night for him to try and riddle out what the guy’s talking about.

“What’s supposed to come after dreaming?” And why is Jones doing that e-tone thing where he uses proper capitalization and stuff? Last Barry checked they were not having the most serious of conversations.

 **trendianajones** **_is typing . . ._ **

> I’ll take the silence as a ‘no’.

 **trendianajones** **_is typing . . ._ **

> I really do need to retire, though.  
> Sweet dreams.

Jones won’t even give him an explanation for it. Figures.

 **gottagofast** **_is typing . . ._ **

> kk  
> you too!  
> g’night

 **trendianajones** **_has signed off._ **

Maybe it’s a British thing. What comes off to him as vague and unclear might be the British way of saying ‘I’m flattered but not interested’. Oh god. He made an ass out of himself, didn’t he?

Barry closes his laptop and collapses in bed, face-first. A small part of him hopes that the heat from his cheeks will burn a hole straight to China where he can start a new life with a blank slate.

*

Julian arrives at Singh’s office at 8-o’clock sharp, ever the stickler about punctuality and image. Though a chair is offered to him, he refrains from taking a seat. Rather, he keeps a respectable distance from his superior while standing at attention. “Captain Singh, you wanted to see me?” He may be a civvie now but you don’t just up and forget boot camp.

“Yes, it’s about your infamous friendship with our Barry Allen.” Not once does Singh look up from his mountains of paperwork, nor his text conversation with Rob. “Normally, I wouldn’t interfere, given the quality of the work you two produce, but it’s starting to affect morale. I wanted to hear your side of things.”

He forces down the sigh that builds in his throat. How many times has Julian tried to bring up his issues with Barry, only for them to be brushed aside? “Sir, it’s a matter of incompatible personalities. I prefer to keep work and my personal life separate. Mr. Allen is very much the opposite and wants to be everyone’s friend.”

Singh shakes his head. “You don’t have to be friends to be cordial.”

“I’ll own up to that one,” Julian admits.

A sigh escapes from the captain. “I want you at the function.”

“Beg your pardon?”

“The CCPD charity fundraiser. It’s a gala we host every other year to try and drum up donations. I want you there, to mingle. Get to know people outside of work.”

There it is, everything he chose to abandon when he stepped foot on the first flight out of Surrey.

Julian grimaces at the thought of entertaining Central City’s elite but the alternative, apparently, would be trust fall exercises with Barry. “It’s in three weeks, isn’t it?”

“Plenty of time for you to get a new suit tailored. Write it off as a work expense.”

“I’m sorry, Captain, was that meant to be taken literally?”

Finally, Singh looks up. His face isn’t unkind. “If I was ten years younger and still out on the field with you guys, I’d be doing a better job of making sure you felt like you were a part of the team. Don’t take it all out on Barry. Understood?” Singh shuffles his papers around and scowls at an empty stapler. Damnable office tools. “You’re dismissed.”

Flabbergasted, Julian marches out with an apprehensive “sir”.

*

A lap around Central City Park teaches Barry two things: One, the park is a lot longer on bike than on foot (with his superspeed taken into account), and two, Wally _would_ know how to pop a wheelie on a fixie.

Wally catches the ground with his foot and skids to a stop. He pulls a water bottle out of his backpack and offers it to Barry before grabbing one for himself. One long swig later and he says, “Hey, man. I’ve been doing a lot of thinking and it was unfair of me to lash out at you like that.”

What had seemed like the Earth splitting open in the heat of the moment was, in retrospect, an inevitable fight between family. Barry smiles faintly. “No, it’s, I totally get where you were coming from. Honestly, if our roles were reversed, I know I’d have been an ass about it, too.”

“Yeah, but, c’mon, Barr.” Wally kicks at the ground. “Iris told me about your folks.” He rubs a hand at the back of his neck as if trying to peel away a layer of shame.

Barry’s never cared for the attention, for the pity. “You lost your mom, too,” he points out.

“She got to see me grow up, though.”

“Wally, we’re not really doing this, are we?”

Wally shakes his head as he casts his eyes to the ground. “Uhh, new topic. Tell me to cut it out if I’m prying, but… do you have a girlfriend?”

The question comes out of left field and Barry’s too embarrassed to respond.

“I just figured since you seemed pretty happy when I met up with you earlier. You were on your phone and stuff.”

Barry has to consciously tell himself not to reach for his phone. “Actually, I’m not, you know, seeing anyone.”

“Ohhh, so it’s a crush.”

The heat travels down Barry’s neck and he lets out some sort of strangled noise.

Wally guffaws. “Dude! Relax. It’s not like she knows, right? You gotta tell her, man.”

“Erm. Him. It’s a guy. A friend.” Barry lifts a hand to his forehead. “I’ve just been in denial this entire time and Cisco’s never gonna let me live it down when he finds out.”

“Dang, Barr, keeping your options open. I dunno what to say other than kudos to you.” With Barry being such an easy target, Wally’s in a good mood now. All smiles and laughter.

“Gee, thanks. Let’s go another lap so I don’t have to think about my love life or lack thereof.”

“That’s one way to dodge the topic, I’ll give you that.”

By the time Barry parts ways with Wally, it’s already sundown. And because it’s late, he’s able to perfectly rationalize his recreational usage of his time: He has a problem and its name is Jones.

The moment his butt touches the chair, Barry logs into his messenger app and starts typing.

 **gottagofast** **_is typing . . ._ **

> sup jones

 **trendianajones** **_is typing . . ._ **

> I was called in by my boss the other day.  
> He wants me to play dress up and flirt with rich old ladies.

 **gottagofast** **_is typing . . ._ **

> ew

 **trendianajones** **_is typing . . ._ **

> Don’t worry, I was bred and raised for this.  
> What about you? How was your day?

 **gottagofast** **_is typing . . ._ **

> Oh, you know. Talked things out with my bro.  
> We’re cool now. He apologized.

 **trendianajones** **_is typing . . ._ **

> I’m happy for you, mate.

 **gottagofast** **_is typing . . ._ **

> Yeah, uhh, one other thing, though?  
> He kinda made me realize that I

What in the world is he doing? Barry stares at his screen, wondering if he should delete those messages.

 **trendianajones** **_is typing . . ._ **

> I’m listening.

Too late to turn back now.

 **gottagofast** **_is typing . . ._ **

> Do you like guys?

 **trendianajones** **_is typing . . ._ **

> Struggling with your sexuality, Flash?  
> I’m familiar with that.  
> In answer to your question, yes.

Either Jones is admitting that he, too, would consider seeing other men or he was one of those dudes who experimented in college. Barry frowns at the thought. His nerves are his worst enemy.

 **gottagofast** **_is typing . . ._ **

> Okay. ‘cause I think I like… a guy.

 **trendianajones** **_is typing . . ._ **

> You’re not sure how to tell him.

 **gottagofast** **_is typing . . ._ **

> I don’t think it’d work out. I don’t even know where the guy lives.

 **trendianajones** **_is typing . . ._ **

> You generally don’t find that out until after he’s invited you home.

Barry’s not sure which comes first: The blanching or the blushing. His face feels both cold and hot at the same time.

 **gottagofast** **_is typing . . ._ **

> Oh my god. That’s NOT what I meant.

 **trendianajones** **_is typing . . ._ **

> So it’s someone you met online.

Just suck it up, Barry, just tell him already!

 **gottagofast** **_is typing . . ._ **

> no  
> i mean yes  
> i mean it’s you  
> i like you  
> there i said it  
> i have a big fat crush on you and it’s the weirdest thing to me because i don’t even know what you look like and i’m freaking out over here because i don’t know what i want  
> i don’t know what you want

Nailed it.

**gottagofast** **_is typing . . ._ **

> i gotta go

Time to put this entire thing behind him and spend the rest of his years living under a rock.

 **trendianajones** **_is typing . . ._ **

> Flash  
> Wait

 **trendianajones** **_is typing . . ._ **

> i like you  
> too  
> i like you too  
> don’t sign off on me

Barry’s heart skips a beat. Not the response he was expecting but definitely not one he’ll turn down.

 **gottagofast** **_is typing . . ._ **

> oh  
> oh thank god  
> so we can still talk and everything and you don’t hate me

 **trendianajones** **_is typing . . ._ **

> you berk  
> this doesn’t change our friendship in the slightest

His cheeks are starting to hurt from how wide he’s grinning at the little words on his laptop screen.

 **gottagofast** **_is typing . . ._ **

> cool  
> i’m gonna wait until i take a really good photo and send it to you  
> you can wait right??

 **trendianajones** **_is typing . . ._ **

> you send yours and i’ll send mine

 **gottagofast** **_is typing . . ._ **

> i’m  
> sure  
> it’s just that everything i have saved on my phone is either cross-eyed or me tryign to lick my nose

 **trendianajones** **_is typing . . ._ **

> you’re cute  
> which is why i stayed up late for you

 **gottagofast** **_is typing . . ._ **

> oh no  
> this is the part where you tell me you’re leaving me

 **trendianajones** **_is typing . . ._ **

> it’s not like i want to  
> i get mean when i don’t sleep

 **gottagofast** **_is typing . . ._ **

> yeah, well, don’t let me keep you up  
> i’ll see you tomorrow?

 **trendianajones** **_is typing . . ._ **

> see you tomorrow, luv

 **gottagofast** **_is typing . . ._ **

> omg  
> *swoons*

 **trendianajones** **_is typing . . ._ **

> Good night.

 **trendianajones** **_has signed off._ **

And like every teenage girl in every teenage romcom, Barry flops on his bed and screams his heart out into his pillow.

*

“Hey, Julian, you looked like you could use a pick me up.”

Julian looks up blearily from his paperwork. Staying up late with a book is easy enough to rationalize. Staying up late to read, only to be interrupted by Flash, is a little harder to feel guiltless over. He’s tired and grumpy and he still hasn’t forgotten about their conversation last night.

“Yo. You’re not asleep, are you?”

The outstretched hand bearing the gift of coffee belongs to none other than Barry.

He hates the fact that everyone around him can be in such a good mood when he feels disgusting after three hours of sleep.

Julian huffs. “Back at it again? I don’t see why you keep trying to get in my good graces.” He accepts the drink nonetheless and takes a hearty swig.

“I, uhh, wasn’t sure if you liked it with milk or cream, so.” Barry awkwardly retrieves two more cups from the crook of his arm and sets them on Julian’s desk. “And I seriously have no idea what you’re talking about. I’m just trying to be a good co-worker.”

Julian pops open the lid and peers into the cup’s contents. He frowns as Barry does the same to the cups that supposedly hold creamer and milk, thinking all the while that _something_ is bound to get spilled all over his reports.

“Oh, so you expect me to believe that you’ve a sudden change of heart and you intend to make up for the past year now?”

“I wasn’t myself, okay!” Barry yells, loud enough for his voice to echo off the walls.

Startled into paying attention, Julian turns to regard Barry and sees the regret seep into the man’s sagging shoulders. Never has he seen Barry look so small before.

Much as he hates the word, Julian would call it pitiable.

“I… Look, I’m sorry for what I did. And I’m sorry it keeps coming off like I don’t care about what happened between us whereas it means a great deal to you.

“I’m not even asking you to forgive me. I just, I just wish you’d believe me when I say I want to make things right. Do you think I enjoy this? Anytime I try to do something nice, I go in half-expecting you to shoot me down. Would I really keep putting myself through that if I was just trying to hurt you?”

An uneasy silence spreads between them. Julian continues to stare into his cup while anxiety and indignation swirl inside his chest like a maelstrom.

He hears Barry let out a frustrated sigh; he doesn’t look up when he hears footsteps trod away against the cold floor.

Julian sips at his coffee.

It’s not the first time he’s had someone storm out on him, nor will it be the last. He’s not so trite as to think of it as a mere effect he has on people either. Where others are able to impart their feelings and garner sympathy for their coarse behavior, Julian can never quite lower his guard.

He lost the ability to do so when his sister passed.

Julian laces his fingers in his lap and kicks at his desk until his chair swivels. They used to run circles around each other as children. ‘Round and ‘round they’d go, the world spinning endlessly.

He laments the fact that Flash and his brother can’t make memories like that. Julian purses his lips and convinces himself that it can’t hurt to check his phone, just to see how Flash is doing.

 **gottagofast** **_is typing . . ._ **

> i hate my co-worker

He’s not even surprised to have a message waiting for him.

 **trendianajones** **_is typing . . ._ **

> you too?

 **gottagofast** **_is typing . . ._ **

> yeah. not having the best day at work  
> he always acts like i’m up to something

Flash has mentioned this chap before, the one who’s excessively paranoid and utterly incapable of human decency.

Based on what he’s been told, Julian doesn’t like this guy. At all.

 **trendianajones** **_is typing . . ._ **

> it sounds like he has trust issues

 **gottagofast** **_is typing . . ._ **

> no kidding  
> i brought him coffee and he tried to start something with me

Julian quirks a brow. Given what just transpired between himself and Barry, he can’t help but feel just the slightest bit of guilt. Even if he wasn’t the one who raised his voice.

He takes a deep breath and makes up his mind: He’ll apologize once Barry comes back from wherever it is he ran off to.

 **trendianajones** **_is typing . . ._ **

> what an ungrateful bastard

 **gottagofast** **_is typing . . ._ **

> i know!

 **trendianajones** **_is typing . . ._ **

> i’m sorry to hear that this idiot’s giving you a hard time again

 **gottagofast** **_is typing . . ._ **

> it’s whatever. I’ve got my friends, got my family  
> and i’ve got you

Julian flicks his thumb against the screen of his phone and stares at the dozens of messages that load. He honestly expects it to take longer to reach his very first ‘hello’ to Flash. Has it really only been just over a month since they first started communicating with one another? He had been under the impression that they’d been speaking for at least three or four before hinting at his sordid past.

Words have power, he decides. Although it will never be the same as holding another human being or inviting someone into your space, the words themselves have power.

Every little nod, every spark of encouragement, every piece of himself that Flash has given to him has helped Julian heal the scabs on his heart.

 **gottagofast** **_is typing . . ._ **

> okay  
> okay, i’m gonna let you in on a secret

He slouches into his chair and exhales. Julian feels as though he’s tempting fate by keeping his phone nearby. (One of these days, Singh is going to catch him idling and he’ll get a lecture for it.)

 **trendianajones** **_is typing . . ._ **

> go on

His waning sense of discipline should be worth his concern but Julian keeps lazy company. If Barry can keep his job, it’s safe to say that he has nothing to worry about.

 **gottagofast** **_is typing . . ._ **

> well, here’s the thing  
> i have no recollection of the past year  
> none  
> apparently i was a total jerk to this guy but i don’t know how to tell him that i basically have amnesia

Hearing about Flash’s family problems is one thing. To have the man divulge his medical condition is another: Julian _cares_ about this person and now he has even more reasons to worry about him.

The worst part is, there’s nothing he can do about it. One, he’s not a medical professional and has no business administering healthcare advice. Two, it’s not like an e-card that gets lost in the spam folder is the key to helping Flash regain his lost memories. Three, he hates having made himself available online for this discussion when he’s being paid to process evidence, not this.

But Julian can’t abandon him now.

 **trendianajones** **_is typing . . ._ **

> you don’t think he’d believe you

 **gottagofast** **_is typing . . ._ **

> i wouldn’t believe me either  
> but i gotta tell him ‘cause work is driving me crazy  
> what if he doesn’t understand?

Then Julian will drive to Flash’s place of employment himself and make the guy understand.

 **trendianajones** **_is typing . . ._ **

> then that’s his problem  
> can’t you ask to be transferred to another department?  
> or you could always look for another job

 **gottagofast** **_is typing . . ._ **

> it’s complicated

It always is.

“Julian. You’re on your phone?”

His eyes snap up. Barry’s one to talk, considering he’s just now pocketing his own device.

A quip stirs upon the tip of Julian’s tongue like a cobra rising to strike.

He’s made a deal with himself, though, to suck up his pride and be a man about this. It’s not fair of him to be churlish over something as innocent as a cup of coffee given out of goodwill. “Yes, I recognize the hypocrisy of the situation. Barry, would you have a seat?” He gestures towards the rolling stool near the whiteboard and keeps a straight face as Barry sits down, drags himself forward with his sneakers, and shuffles his way on over.

“You can apologize to me any minute now.”

“That’s what I was getting to,” Julian replies as he lowers his gaze to the ground.

Barry’s tone shifts from expectant to surprised. “Wait, really?”

“Yes,” he begins. The word ‘really’ tries to sneak its way out but Julian exercises every bit of self-restraint he can muster. “I can acknowledge how rude it was of me to sling accusations at you over a kind gesture. For that, I’m sorry.”

Barry says nothing.

He can only keep his head bowed forward for so long, but when Julian sits back up, his gaze locks with Barry’s and he finds a wealth of information simply lying within them for the taking: Shock, relief, and even humility.

“It’s,” Barry starts.

His mouth is too slow for his mind, is what Emma would have said.

“It’s okay.” Barry tilts his head forward.

Unlike the terse nods that pass back and forth between them over the course of having to tolerate one another for the sake of a paycheck, this one is markedly different. Julian senses enthusiasm from him.

“Like I said, I haven’t been regarding our, uhh, working relationship, with the weight that it deserves.” Barry coughs into his fist and wipes it against his jacket. “You’re not the only one who’s been unfair.”

No, but Julian feels guilty when Barry comes around and acknowledges what he’s been suffering in silence. Something heavy and painful weighs against his chest.

“You actually had a point when you said there isn’t something right about me. I’m, I’m impatient, all right? Like, to the point where if the best course of action is to do nothing, I go ahead and do _something_ , thereby inevitably screwing things up.”

With every word that Barry speaks, the burden that sits above Julian’s heart shifts and groans. A harrowing hollow pain echoes inside his chest.

“Stop, Barry,” Julian snaps. “Just stop.”

“But Julian--”

“This isn’t what I asked for,” he manages without choking. “Let’s just allow bygones to be bygones and drop it, yes?”

Tears sting at the corner of his eyes. His phone rings but now is really not the time.

Inhale, exhale. Inhale, exhale.

Every time Barry tries to ask after him, Julian cuts him off with a glare. It takes Barry three attempts before he gets the hint and scuttles back to his side of the lab.

Julian gathers himself and spends the rest of his time at work being a productive member of society who’s got his shit together.

When the clock strikes seven and Barry hurries out as quickly as he can, Julian lets his head hit the desk and sighs. He grabs his phone and prays that whatever Flash wanted to talk about would erase that humiliating scene he caused earlier from his mind.

 **gottagofast** **_is typing . . ._ **

> what do i do?  
> i made my co-worker cry

Julian leaves ‘now you’ve gone and done it twice’ unsent and throws his phone on the desk.

It was Barry all along.

*

 **_( two weeks ago )_ ** ****  
**gottagofast said:**  
> hey, what’s up?

 **_( 13 days ago )_ ** ****  
**gottagofast said:**  
> yo, how’s it hanging

 **_( 12 days ago )_ ** ****  
**gottagofast said:**  
> mr. jones, your friend misses you

 **_( one week ago )_ ** ****  
**gottagofast said:**  
> [ selfie.jpg ]

 **_( 6 days ago )_ ** ****  
**gottagofast said:**  
> hey, is everything all right?  
> i haven’t heard from you in a while

 **_( 6 days ago )_ ** ****  
**gottagofast said:**  
> it’s my face isn’t it  
> you think i’m hideous

 **_( 4 days ago )_ ** ****  
**gottagofast said:**  
> um, i just wanted to make sure  
> like  
> is everything cool between us?  
> you haven’t been posting to the forum

 **_( 1 day ago )_ ** ****  
**gottagofast said:**  
> seriously, man, you could be dead and i wouldn’t even know it  
> i mean, hi  
> “hi” is how normal people start conversations  
> but i thought we were kinda past that stage of our friendship  
> like we’d gone from “hi” to “LOOK AT THIS CAT PLAYING PIANO”  
> that kinda thing

 **_( 5 hours ago )_ ** ****  
**gottagofast said:**  
> i’m really worried about you

*

In the days leading up to the gala, Julian has learned a number of things about Barry Allen: No matter how much the man’s belongings are in a disarray, he can always find what he needs; Barry is incredibly good at thinking outside the box which must be why Singh keeps him on; when Barry is focused, his brows are incredibly animated, as if mapping out the thoughts in his mind; Barry drinks coffee for its taste, not its effects, hence his penchant for decaf.

Julian has since tuned out half of the conversation he’s been roped into by a gaggle of elderly socialites who no doubt are imagining him in his trunks by the poolside.

For the better part of the evening, his attention has been following the faces he can recognize (Singh, Singh’s husband Rob, Detective West, the detective’s daughter Iris, Caitlin, and so on and so forth) in hopes of locating Barry.

Ever since their disastrous attempt at patching things up, Julian has been meticulously piecing together an apology.

So far, he has a grand total of four words to tell Barry: ‘I’ve been an arse.’ Beyond that, he’s totally helpless.

At the very least, his presence at the function might endear him to the captain for all of two seconds before it’s back to business and producing reports.

The bigger issue here is how he’s meant to continue working alongside Barry when he’s learned so much. Amnesia. Is it possible for amnesia to change a person’s character? Or perhaps Barry has simply forgotten the bitterness he once held towards him. That would make sense.

After all, under the guise of ‘Mr. Jones’, Julian found his equal in both intellect and passion.

He excuses himself from the grips of the women trying to entice him with their money and makes a beeline for the open bar. He’s not much of a dancer, nor a talker, so being a drinker is really his only option.

Before he can ask for so much as a gin, however, he spots Caitlin (wasn’t she just on stage?) nudging a glass towards Barry. Julian freezes on the spot and Caitlin notices him. With all the empathy a disappointed mother can produce, she gestures for him to come over.

But again, his legs are frozen. This, of course, has never deterred Caitlin before.

She gives Barry a pat on the back before getting up to fetch Julian.

“He’s your online friend, isn’t he? You found out.”

Julian lowers his head in a nod that can’t get back up. “I’ve a lot to apologize for.”

She’s kind enough not say ‘I know’ out loud but the way she squeezes his shoulder stings deeper. “Go talk to him.”

So, Julian walks up to Barry and takes a seat beside him. He laces his fingers in his lap and twiddles his thumbs. Clearing his throat is his way of staving off the silence for a few seconds longer.

“I thought you weren’t talking to me,” Barry mumbles against his arms.

“Yes, well, I’ve a lot of ground to cover and I want to start with that day you brought me coffee.”

Barry remains quiet.

“I know I must have terrified you, react so strongly when you were the one apologizing for your mistakes. It took me some time to work through what I was feeling at the time, but… You didn’t do anything wrong, Barry. I’ve just never had my emotions validated like that before; all I knew was that I was on the verge of tears with no explanation for them.”

“Wait.” Barry pushes off the bar counter and stares at him. “You’re saying that I helped you? And because I was helping you, you freaked out and--”

“Pushed you away, yes.”

Barry makes a face. “You’re so _dumb_ , Julian.”

He doesn’t argue. “Yeah.”

Julian lets out a sigh as he clasps his hands together. “There’s more, Barry, I’m not finished.

“That day we fought, it was also the day that I realized… we’ve been messaging each other, constantly, under the pretense of anonymity. I thought it was one thing to receive a text after you’d left the lab about ‘a terrible co-worker’ but when I was told ‘I just made my co-worker cry’, I pieced two-and-two together.”

Barry asks in a quiet voice, “You’re telling me that you’re ‘Jones’?”

Julian nods. “I’m also telling you that I never meant to ignore you. I needed time to… figure out what I was going to say to you. Frankly, I feel like I’ve done a poor job of owning up to everything.”

They’re both quiet after that, watching each other with shy and tepid glances.

“Sooo,” Barry starts. “Assuming you were absolutely candid with me before we knew it was each other, maybe you and I, oh, I don’t know, we could, dance?”

Something stronger than relief, sweeter than admiration, fills up Julian’s chest. His cheeks take on a shade of pink and embarrassment. Gingerly yet eager all the same, his hands grab at Barry’s and he says, “I’d love that.”

“Wait, before we get up there with Caitlin, there’s something I kinda need to confess to you, too. To make up for all my late starts, I mean.”

Julian nods for him to go on.

Barry lowers his voice to just barely above a whisper, “See, I’m the Flash.”

“Barry, I just told you I figured that out on my own.”

“No, not the name you’ve been calling me. I’m the real deal! Like, you’ve always wanted to know what my big secret was. This is it! I’m him. He’s me. It’s probably why you felt like you could never fully trust me.”

It’s another conversation they’ll need to have, is the last coherent thought Julian has before he tugs Barry closer and presses a chaste kiss against his cheek. “I feel a little less bad for worrying you when there will be plenty of opportunity for me to worry about you.”

The next thing he knows, he has an armful of sniffling Barry. Julian feels his stomach sink.

“I was scared. I thought I screwed things up with you. On both accounts, actually. Both Julian my co-worker and Jones my friend.”

“There, there… I’ll make it up to you, I swear.” Julian repeats the motion of Caitlin’s hand upon Barry’s back and sighs softly. “Hey, Barry. Guess what.”

“Yeah, Jul?”

“I’m just now realizing I called myself an ungrateful bastard.”

That manages to turn that teary frown upside-down. Barry stumbles over a sniff that turns into a laugh and dabs at his eyes with the fancy handkerchief that’s been sitting in his jacket pocket uselessly all night long. “To be fair, I wouldn’t call you one now. Not when I’ve gotten to know you better.”

“I’m glad we had the opportunity to establish some common ground between us, too, Barry.” Julian eases back to allow Barry some space but he never lets go of those calloused yet warm hands. “Think you’re composed enough to make it to the dance floor?”

Barry surges forward and plants a wet sloppy one on his mouth. “Sure, but I can’t promise I won’t stub your toes a few times.”

“We both know I deserve it.”

A month ago, Barry might have said “damn right you do!” but Julian hears nothing but an affectionate hum that may or may not signal agreement.

“We’ve come a long way, haven’t we?” Julian murmurs.

Barry won’t stop kissing him. “Now all that’s left is to see where this takes us.”

**Author's Note:**

> Lovingly beta'd by xFoxVII, cabbagecorsair, and AbsoluteGODofHyperactivity. You guys are the best.


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